


Never Be Dull

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Job Related Trauma, Law Enforcement, M/M, No Sex, POV Derek, Suicidal Thoughts, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Stiles’s sense of humor was irreverent but Derek couldn’t fault the guy.  Jackson Whittemore had acted like an ass, not wanting to acknowledge what Stiles had done for his daughter.  Derek would never have the guts to do what Stiles had done but he had an appreciation for it.
Allison had been right…partnering up with Stiles would never be dull.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the _Northwoods Law_ AU nobody asked for. I shamelessly used one incident from the series but the rest comes from my own twisted imagination.
> 
> Who can resist both Derek and Stiles in uniform? Not I!
> 
> Please take note there is a secondary minor character who seems to be suffering from suicidal thoughts but there is a happy, and mostly peaceful, ending for all involved.

Derek entered the darkness of the bar and let his eyesight adjust to the change for a moment. 

“Derek, over here!” Allison Argent’s voice sang out from across the bar.

Within a few steps he could see clearly again and easily located his occasional partner. He and Allison were both game wardens with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and some of the work was solitary but they teamed up together when a partner was needed.

Derek collapsed into a chair at the small table. “What’s up?”

They were both off duty and Allison handed him a beer. “I’ve got some news.” 

Derek stared at Guinness Irish Stout in hand, it was a little more expensive than they usually sprang for, and he realized this wasn’t going to be good news. 

“Okay?” Derek’s eyebrows rose up on his forehead. He braced himself for whatever was coming.

“I’m being transferred. My dad got the supervisor’s job since Finstock got promoted and I can’t direct report to him,” Allison made a face as she delivered the news. 

“Oh,” Derek responded. He raised the beer to his mouth and chugged down several mouthfuls. 

“Yeah. Oh. I’m not super happy about the transfer but my dad has worked hard for this and I know he’ll be amazing. In other news, I heard who is replacing me,” Allison shared before taking her own healthy gulp of beer.

“Tell me,” Derek straightened his spine as he waited for the news. “Unless it’s Greenberg in which case I don’t want to know.”

Allison’s face broke into a smile, her dimples flashing. If Derek had been attracted to the opposite sex, he probably would’ve fallen in love with the woman. As it was, his history with the fairer sex had put him off dating them and he’d turned his attentions exclusively to the males in the population.

“You’re in the clear. It’s not Greenberg. It’s my friend, Stiles. He’s Scott’s best friend. He’s unorthodox but he’s good,” she explained. Scott was Allison’s fiancé and he was a good guy. Derek had met Scott McCall several times at after work functions and he thought the guy was dependable and caring, like some Disney Prince. Scott was definitely a good match for Allison who Derek had always thought of as a Disney Princess, at least one of the newer ones who could kick ass.

Allison’s eyes were earnest as she hooked a hank of hair behind her ear but Derek still had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Unorthodox.

Derek was by the book and unorthodox was probably going to drive him crazy. Hopefully he wouldn’t be paired up with the other man very often.

Allison slugged him in the arm to get his attention. “Hey, one thing about Stiles…things will never be dull when you’re partnered up with him.”

_Shoot me now._

-0-

Derek was looking past Cora’s shoulder, staring at the attractive brunet sitting at the table across the room for theirs. His other sister, Laura, was talking about fixing Derek up with the friend of someone’s cousin twice removed or something ridiculous like that and he was tuning the conversation out, content to watch as the man across the room talked with his hands and laughed loudly.

Hmmm. Derek wondered what it would be like to have those hands sliding across his body…the laugh tickling his ear…licking those sweet looking beauty marks…gulp. 

The only problem with the brunet that Derek could see was that he was sitting with an attractive red haired woman and the two seemed overly familiar with one another. Unless they were siblings. That was always possible. Derek’s eyes drifted back to look at first Laura and then Cora who were staring back, mouths pursed. “What?”

“You weren’t even listening to us, were you?” Laura said, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder with an aggressive flick of the wrist.

“Not even a bit,” Derek conceded. He’d had many years to hone his defenses against his sisters who took great pleasure in ganging up on him.

The man across the restaurant threw back his head and laughed loudly. It was a deep, booming sound and Derek smiled in response.

“I know that laugh,” Cora wheeled around to stare across the room, scanning the occupants until she identified who was laughing with unabashed glee. Her mouth dropped open and she exclaimed loudly, “Stiles Stilinski? Is that really you?”

Stiles Stilinski. His new partner. 

Derek sunk a little lower in his seat. He’d been dreaming of doing unspeakable things to the attractive young man and said man turned out to be his new work partner.

The restaurant had grown quiet in that moment and the man heard his name. “Cora Hale, I was wondering when I’d run into you.”

Cora clambered to her feet and darted to the table. The man—Stiles—climbed to his feet and threw his arms around his sister.

Awkward.

Derek turned his attention to his other sister. “I need to get going. I have an early shift tomorrow. Same time next week?” he asked even though he knew the answer already.

“Sounds good. I’ll call you on Wednesday,” Laura answered back. She was the eldest of the remaining Hale siblings and she liked to keep tabs on her family. 

Despite years of therapy, Derek still fought twinges of guilt over the fire that had decimated the rest of the Hales and even though Laura’s attentions could be a bit suffocating, he tolerated them. It was a small price to pay for having his remaining family in his life.

Standing up, Derek brushed a quick kiss over her cheek. “I don’t want to interrupt the happy reunion over there. Could you please tell Cora I’ll talk to her later?”

“Sure thing, Der,” Laura responded.

Derek bolted for the nearest exit.

He needed to come to terms with the fact he’d been making eyes at his new partner. He was going to be professional about this if it killed him.

-0-

Chris Argent—make that Captain Argent—called Derek into his office. The jarring color schemes Captain Finstock had utilized in the space had been replaced with cream walls and wood accents and the overall ambience was both professional and soothing. 

At least until Captain Argent cleared his throat and directed Derek’s attention to the other man in the office, “Derek Hale, please meet Stiles Stilinski. I’m assigning you to show Stiles the ropes.”

The brunet reached his hand out and Chris had to clear his throat again to prod Derek into making contact with the large palm with his own in an introductory handshake when he hesitated.

Derek’s line of sight swept over the man’s large feet, up his long legs, over the swell of his groin—large hands and feet seemed to be an indicator of being well endowed in another area—and then skimming over the slight waist and broad shoulders. He might’ve gulped audibly before shaking himself and murmuring, “Welcome to the team.”

Stiles smiled but it seemed a bit strained, the generous curve of the lips not reaching his soulful brown eyes. The other man responded with a quiet, “Thank you,” and the voice was deep and a little hoarse and it did something funny to Derek’s insides.

Derek dispensed with thinking of his supervisor as Captain Argent—he would always be Allison’s cool father Chris to him—looked between both men, his expression a bit bemused, before he clapped his hands once. “All right then. Derek, if you could show Stiles around I would appreciate it. Just have him back here by Noon.”

Derek dutifully gave the other man, Stiles, a tour of the building. He wrapped things up when he showed Stiles how to check out a vehicle and he was just going through the equipment, all of the doors wide open, when the radio in the SUV crackled to life. 

“Lt. Hale, we have a situation at 1130 North Woodcrest involving a pit bull and a wild turkey. Can you respond? Over.” The crisp, feminine voice of Erica Reyes was easily recognizable. She was sassy and spirited but she was fantastic at her dispatch duties.

Looking to Stiles who nodded enthusiastically, Derek grabbed the radio and responded, “10-4. Over.”

They climbed into the SUV, Derek behind the wheel.

Stiles vibrated with energy but Derek didn’t find it off-putting. The other man looked alert, eyes scanning the sides of the road. For some reason Derek had expected his new partner to be a chatterbox but so far he was being quiet and respectful.

It took fifteen minutes before he was pulling onto North Woodcrest.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles murmured quietly as Derek pulled down an almost hidden driveway with pavement that meandered and snaked its way to a one story ranch perched amidst trees.

Derek shot him a glance, noticing the frowning face. “Problem?”

Stiles cleared his throat. “I may have had some dealings with the home owner in my misspent youth.”

Radioing in there status, Derek opened the door. He kept his eyes averted from the other guy. “I guess you can stay in the vehicle.” Technically Stiles was being orientated and didn’t have to take calls yet.

The passenger door squeaked open. “No, I’d best face the music. That’s assuming Old Man Anderson still lives here.”

The front door whipped open and an older man with gray hair stared them both down. His eyes widened when he saw Stiles. “Stilinski Junior, are you out on parole?”

Derek’s step faltered and he slowed his approach. His partner continued to stride forward, putting his hand out to shake the older man’s hand. “Mr. Anderson, I sincerely apologize for being a little shit when I was younger. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mr. Anderson shook Stiles’s hand but he was frowning heavily. “I suppose for your father’s sake, we can let bygones be bygones. But if my prized Tulips start disappearing again I know exactly who to have the police interview first.”

Derek approached the two men and barely received a nod from Mr. Anderson in acknowledgment. Instead Stiles took command of the visit. “So what seems to be the problem, Mr. Anderson?”

The older man looked uncomfortable for a moment but then stiffened his spine. “My Angus got in a bit of a tussle with a wild turkey or some sort of wild game. I’m afraid it’s going to attack a child or something.”

Having been out to Mr. Anderson’s property before, Derek remembered the Pit Bull Terrier who usually protected the property. Angus. “Did you see what happened?” he contributed to the conversation.

“I heard a ruckus outside but by the time I made it into the backyard, the bird was already headed off of the property and poor Angus was beat up,” Mr. Anderson described. “I didn’t get a good look at it but I thought it might be a Wild Turkey. It was huge, easily as large as Angus.”

“Would it be okay if we took a look at Angus?” Stiles asked.

“Sure, right this way,” Mr. Anderson brought them into his house, down a short hallway, into a bright kitchen. Angus was lying on the tile floor, head between his front paws, face heavily scratched up with raw looking wounds. 

“Is Angus a Blue Brindle?” Stiles asked as he got his first look at the lightly tanned dog with dark markings throughout his coat.

Mr. Anderson’s face had a look of surprise before he answered, “Why yes he is. How did you know?”

“My best friend is a vet and I think I soaked up some of his knowledge through osmosis. Angus sure is a handsome fella,” Stiles commented. His tone was even and natural sounding…he wasn’t sucking up—he meant it.

The older man beamed on with pride as Stiles approached Angus slowly, going down on bended knee. “Hey, Angus. How are you doing, boy?” he asked, extending the back of his hand to the dog.

Derek tensed up, hand going to his sidearm. He didn’t have anything against dogs, or Pit Bulls, but his new partner was getting up close and personal with a strange one and Derek wanted to be alert.

Angus’s tail gave one thump, then two. He picked his head up and sniffed at the bare skin offered to him. The dog actually wiggled, then belly crawled, moving across the tile until he was in Stiles’s arms.

His partner stroked the shiny short fur with his big hands, speaking softly to the dog. “Did you at least get in a few good licks when you were brawling with that mean old fowl?”

Angus licked Stiles’s cheek and whined as he tried to head-butt and bury himself against the kneeling human as though taking comfort from his presence.

Derek looked over and Mr. Anderson seemed as taken with the scene before him, smiling fondly at the man and dog.

Stiles peeled himself away from Angus, rising to his feet. “Can you point us in the direction you last saw Angus’s opposition moving in?”

Mr. Anderson’s lips quirked into a slight smile. He showed them to the sliding glass door leading out into the large backyard. “It disappeared right through that gap in the hedge.”

“Do you mind if we walk through your property?” Stiles asked.

The older man gave them permission and Derek followed Stiles into the yard, admiring the way the khaki pants conformed to Stiles’s muscular ass and thighs.

“I know on average Wild Turkeys can grow to be around 4-feet tall and 30-pounds but I wasn’t aware there was a population in this area,” Stiles shared.

Derek shook his meandering thoughts, and eyes, and joined in the conversation. “No, I haven’t seen any Wild Turkeys in this area since I’ve been patrolling but something definitely beat up on that dog.”

Stiles kept moving as he snorted. “Yeah, Angus got his ass handed to him. Mr. Wilson is right, we don’t want whatever did that mixing it up with any children.”

The two exited Mr. Anderson’s property through the hedgerow and entered the backyard of the next property. A younger woman was on her knees, pulling weeds from around some flowers. She hand long brown hair streaked with platinum shades of blond tied in a loose ponytail. For some reason the hair coloring reminded Derek of a skunk but he knew better to comment on it.

Derek pushed those thoughts away and took the lead this time. “Excuse me, ma’am, we’re with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. Is it okay if we come on your property and ask you some questions?”

The woman rose to her feet, taking off gardening gloves. She looked Derek up and down in that manner that always unsettled him, like she was eying him up for something. “Well of course, officer. What can I do for you?” She fluttered her eyelashes at a disturbing rate. Maybe it was supposed to be sexy but it looked more like she was suffering from some sort of nervous tic.

“Do you have something caught in your eye ma’am?” Stiles asked with an innocent air.

The woman shot his partner a disgruntled look before turning her attention back to Derek.

“We were wondering if you seen any large fowl in the area recently. We’ve had a complaint of an aggressive bird, possibly a Wild Turkey, and we’re trying to track it down,” Derek explained.

The woman wrinkled her nose. “Oh. I did see something that looked like a mutated vulture. It had polka-dotted feathers except on its head which seemed featherless. It sure could screech.”

Derek knew that description didn’t match a Wild Turkey but he couldn’t quite place it. His area of expertise was more in big cats although he still knew plenty about all of the wildlife indigenous to this area. It was, after all, in his job description. 

“Did you happen to see which direction it headed?” Stiles asked the woman.

The woman pointed toward the wooded area beyond her house. “I’m pretty sure it went that way although I didn’t stick around much after I heard those awful shrieks.”

“Sorry to have bothered you, ma’am. Thank you for your help,” Derek said, keeping his tone professional.

The woman took his hint and smiled graciously without flirting. “Of course.” She continued to ignore his partner though.

Derek found himself following Stiles yet again although he almost barreled into the guy when he stopped short.

Stiles whispered, “Listen.”

An occasional soft squeal could be heard but it picked up in intensity and volume, resembling the bird version of barking.

Both men moved forward, following the sound. In unison they both looked up to see a bird nestled in the branches above their head. 

The woman who had described it had been accurate: This bird did resemble a vulture with its featherless head. The polka-dotted feathers on the rest of its body were interesting rather than pretty.

“How big would you say that bird is?” Stiles wondered as he pulled out his cell phone and took some pictures.

“Maybe a foot and a half tall and five pounds?” Derek responded.

“Do you think that’s the monster that beat up Angus?” Stiles asked, laughter in his voice.

Derek found himself snickering. “It doesn’t exactly cut an imposing figure.”

“I think there are some farms near by that use Guinea Fowl. I hear they make good watchdogs and will herd goats. I’d say this little guy escaped but if I remember correctly, he’s not far off from his home. Come on, let’s report our findings back to Mr. Anderson,” Stiles hit Derek in the arm lightly.

They hadn’t even been around each other for three hours and they had already established some sort of work rhythm. Derek would continue to miss Allison but being paired with Stiles wasn’t turning out to be any kind of hardship.

By tacit consent, both men skirted the home with the gardening woman before reentering Mr. Anderson’s yard.

The property owner was now standing in the backyard, arms folded. “Did you find it?”

Stiles withdrew his cell phone and pulled up the pictures he’d taken. “Do you think this might be the culprit?”

Mr. Anderson scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It does look like the ugly cuss but this one doesn’t seem big enough,” he answered.

“This is a Guinea Fowl. They’re a bit territorial. We think it belongs to the farm up the road. Hopefully it won’t come back on your property again but if it does, please let us know and we’ll remove it for you,” Stiles explained.

The citizen nodded his head. “I suppose. Thank you for checking things out.”

Derek was about to excuse himself when Stiles piped up. “Would it be okay if I saw Angus again?”

Mr. Anderson’s face creased into a smile. “I’ll just let him out.”

Soon the Pit Bull was bounding out of the house, making a beeline for Stiles.

Once again Stiles dropped to a knee and began vigorously massaging the dog’s barrel chest and back, keeping his hand away from any scratches or sores that seemed confined to his facial area. “I’m thinking we might have to revoke your dog card for getting your ass whooped by that itty-bitty bird,” he teased good-naturedly. 

Mr. Anderson was too far away to object to the teasing but Derek heard him and covered his laughter with a cough. “We’d best be going. Please don’t hesitate to call us again if you have any more issues.”

Stiles gave one last reassuring pat to the adoring dog before straightening up. “It looks like you did a good job of treating Angus’s wounds but wild birds aren’t known for their hygiene so if you see redness streaking away from the open areas be sure to get this sweet pup to a vet.”

“Of course. Thanks, Stiles. Say hello to your father for me,” Mr. Anderson smiled, his face lighting up.

“Will do, Mr. Anderson. We’ll see you later,” Stiles responded.

They made their way around the house to the SUV.

“Nice job,” Derek said as they climbed into the vehicle.

Stiles shot him a startled look before grinning. “That was an interesting call. What else do you do around here for fun?”

Derek shifted in his seat, thinking of the fun he’d like to have with Stiles.

_Down boy._ Derek needed to keep things professional.

It was hard to do that though when he kept picturing Stiles down on one knee, petting Angus who wanted to climb into his lap. Adorable.

At least Derek was assured Stiles had adequate training when it came to wildlife and he’d shown a nice touch in dealing with the usually persnickety Mr. Anderson.

It would be interesting to see what other areas Stiles excelled at in the coming days. 

-0-

Derek and Stiles were on the same schedule rotation, four days on and three days off, so when a partner was needed on a job they’d been paired up more often than not.

So far Derek had only good things to share with Chris about Stiles’s job performance. Stiles had acquitted himself nicely with Mr. Anderson and Angus and since then had handled everything thrown his way with grace and a sense of humor.

Derek was in a bit of a quandary. He not only found Stiles attractive but he genuinely liked the guy. There were no policies in place prohibiting workplace romance as long as there wasn’t a manager and direct subordinate involved.

There was one thing holding Derek back from asking Stiles out—he still wasn’t sure of Stiles’s sexual orientation and he didn’t want to muck up their professional relationship. Instead he was forced to seek out information from another source.

Allison was a potential source since she was engaged to Stiles’s best friend but they were working opposite shifts and so far they’d only traded texts and voicemails. This wasn’t something Derek wanted to ask in writing.

Chris Argent probably knew more about Stiles but no. Just no. Derek wasn’t going to his supervisor about something personal like this.

That left…

“Derek, there you are! We thought you were going to blow us off.” Cora waved him over to the table where she and Laura were sitting, twirling the umbrellas around their big, frothy fruity drinks.

Alcohol might be necessarily in order for Derek to get through this conversation. He detoured to the bar and placed an order for a Beefeater’s Martini. He could swirl his olives around while his sisters did the same with their umbrellas.

Once he had his drink in hand, Derek approached his sisters. They both stood up and brushed a kiss across his cheek and he countered by hugging first Laura and then Cora. 

What was with the rhyming names? Derek had loved his parents but he sometimes wondered what they had been thinking. He supposed he should feel grateful they hadn’t hung a moniker like Tora or Zora on him or something equally awful. 

Both of his sisters had always had a knack for sensing blood in the water but Cora launched the first attack, baring her big white teeth in a predatory smile. “So, how’s work?”

Laura slugged her in the arm. “Lacking in subtlety. I thought I taught you better than that.”

Derek had been on the receiving end of that punch throughout their childhood and he rubbed his own arm in sympathy.

He could’ve given a bland response but he was on a fact-finding mission. “Work is definitely more interesting these days. What can you tell me about your friend, Stiles?” he directed his question to his younger sister.

Cora threw her head back and cackled, crowing, “I knew it! He is so your type.”

Derek leaned forward and hissed, “Could you please lower your voice? I don’t need all of Beacon County knowing about this.”

His sister’s laughter subsided and she looked at Derek with fondness. Laura had the same look in her hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry, bro, it’s just that I totally called it two weeks ago when we were at dinner. Stiles is a good guy. He’s wicked smart. He’s got a way with animals. Small children and the elderly love him to pieces. Most importantly, he’s even more sarcastic than I am,” Cora continued to smile with glee as she catalogued Stiles’s attributes.

Derek had noticed all of the things Cora had mentioned. Angus the Brindle colored Pit Bull wasn’t the only animal to make cow eyes at his partner. There had been a bunny, a fawn and a coyote pup who had all gone gaga for Stiles. He was like the pied piper of small animals. 

Derek had yet to see Stiles interact with any children yet but it was true the older generations seemed to respond well to his partner. Stiles was always courteous to them and took their complaints seriously.

Sarcasm…yep, Stiles definitely had that in spades. It could be infuriating when Derek was the recipient but when it was directed at others, it was highly amusing. Even their no-nonsense supervisor, Chris, found Stiles’s comments funny.

“You liiiike him,” Laura sing-songed, her smile matching Cora’s.

Derek toyed with his martini olive pick, swirling it through the clear liquid in his glass. He was pretty sure he had a shy smile on his face when he glanced up. “Yeah. Yeah I do. There’s just one problem.”

Laura leaned forward, one elbow on the table, staring at Derek like she actually found her sibling fascinating. “Tell us,” she commanded.

“I don’t know if he’s straight or not,” Derek pushed out of his suddenly dry mouth. He took a gulp of his very dry martini and although that alleviated the dry mouth, it caught in his throat making him cough.

Cora who had been taking a sip of her fruity drink joined him in a coughing fit as her swallow went down the wrong way.

Laura stared at them both, fingers tapping impatiently on the table. Cora held the key to this mystery and Laura seemed as invested in her answer as Derek.

When their little sister had finally caught her breath, face red and eyes teary, she announced, “Stiles is totally bent. There’s nothing straight about him. If you want to ask him out, I suggest you go for it.” Then, on a more serious note, she leaned forward and touched Derek’s arm. “You have to remember, Der, you give off totally hetero vibes and Stiles’s gaydar has never been that great. I think you’re going to have to make the first move.”

His oldest sister picked up her glass and a knife, tapping the rim softly to create a tink, tink sound. “I propose a toast. To Derek and the new man in his life.”

All three Hales tapped their glasses together and took a swallow, this time foregoing the coughing fit.

Laura and Cora weren’t smirking or looking smug…they looked happy for him.

Derek took a moment to bask in the glow of his sisters’ support.

He suspected the hard part would be approaching Stiles. He’d never worried about being shot down before—getting dates had never been a problem before, keeping them had turned out to be the hard part—but this time it really mattered to him and Derek didn’t want to fail.

-0-

Work had gotten ridiculously busy and Derek never found a good time to ask Stiles out. He knew it was a cop-out, that there probably would never be a perfect time, but still he kept his eyes open waiting for that opportunity to present itself.

Now, unfortunately, was not the time. They’d been assigned to the search-and-rescue party for a little girl. They’d gotten lucky and found her, uninjured, but the signal has been too weak to let anyone know and they’d been forced to hike out.

Derek was currently giving the little girl, Katherine, a piggyback ride. Stiles was walking behind them, keeping the six-year-old amused.

“So I know your first name starts with a K. Is it Katie?” Stiles asked even though he knew damned well the name of Derek’s passenger.

“Nope,” Katherine crowed, sounding very similar to Derek’s little sister even though there was a 17-year gap between them in age.

“Hmmm. Kacey?” his partner threw out next.

“Not even close,” the little blond replied and Derek could hear the smirk in her voice.

Stiles continued to play along. “How about Kayla?”

“Eww, I know four girls with that name. I’m the only one with my name in the class,” she announced grandly.

Derek thought he heard Stiles murmur something about her definitely being a Whittemore but Katherine didn’t pick up on it. He didn’t bother to suppress his grin.

“Kandy with a K?” was Stiles’s next guess.

He was pretty sure Katherine crinkled her nose with distaste. “That sounds like a stripper name. No.”

“How do you know about stripper names…you know what? Forget I asked that. Maybe your name is Kara?” his partner suggested.

The name game continued on for at least fifteen more minutes, Stiles milking it for everything he could, making the blond girl giggle a time or two. This was a vast improvement over Katherine’s emotional state when they’d found her. Her face was tear streaked, her hair all mussed, and she kept asking why her cousins would lead her into the forest and ditch her.

Cora’s words at dinner the other week resounded in his mind about Stiles being good with children and he had certainly displayed that so far, easily calming the girl and turning their hike into an adventure to be coveted, one her stupid boy cousins would be sorry they missed out on.

“What do you say we take a break?” Derek interrupted the game. They had just cleared a hill and he was slightly out of breath. 

There was a road up ahead and that boded well. 

Stiles lifted the girl from his back and the two of them sank on to the ground, holding hands.

Derek itched to pull his cell phone out and take a picture of Stiles sitting cross-legged on the ground, holding hands with the young girl, but he was striving for professionalism here.

Instead he walked out toward the road and tried his walky-talky again.

This time he reached Erica on dispatch and relayed their pertinent information.

Returning to the duo on the ground, Derek announced, “Transport is about fifteen minutes out.”

Stiles threw his arms into the arm like a referee indicating a successful field goal. “Score!”

Katherine mimicked his actions and words, a wide smile on her face.

Stiles looked at the bedraggled girl and then nodded to himself. “I have an idea.”

The other man dug around in his pack and withdrew a pink small zippered bag with the word _Glitter_ on its side made out of sequins or something like that. Derek stared in fascination as he withdrew a comb and some hair ties. He wasn’t the only person staring with fascination at Stiles. 

Holding his hand out with the hair ties, he extended them toward Katherine. “Do you want your hair braided? Go ahead and pick out the ones you like.”

Katherine held her hands to her chest, her blue eyes huge in her face, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o.’ She looked at the sparkly items in Stiles’s large hand and then looked up into Stiles’s face. “Where did you get these?”

“My friend Lydia made sure I had them when she heard Derek and I were coming out here to find you. If you want I can French braid your hair for you,” Stiles smiled at the young girl.

Katherine narrowed her eyes, frowning at Stiles. “You can French braid?” She sounded doubtful.

“Pshaw,” Stiles shrugged off her question. “I can even do a Dutch braid,” he assured her.

The girl’s blue eyes practically bugged out of her head. “You can? My daddy can’t braid at all. Could you please do the reverse one on me?”

Derek had some idea of what French braiding was—he had two sisters with long hair after all—but Stiles and Katherine had lost him with their talk of reverses.

“Two braids or one?” Stiles asked.

Katherine put a finger to her chin and thought. “Two please. Daddy doesn’t like it when I act older than my age.”

Stiles’s mouth twitched but he didn’t succumb to a smile. “Okay then. Pick out two fasteners,” Stiles held his hand even closer.

The girl touched all of the doo-dads but picked up two, staring at them thoughtfully. “What do you think of these two?”

Stiles pursed his lips and looked them over. The ties Katherine had selected were silver with pink accents. Stiles’s face broke into a smile. “That will look nice with your outfit.” He handed her the comb. “You work the snarls out so I don’t hurt you.”

The girl set about combing out her snarled blond hair. She grimaced but continued to work the comb through the long tresses. She handed the comb to Stiles. “Done.”

The other man sat down behind Katherine, crossing his legs again. The flexibility Stiles displayed mesmerized Derek. Although a part of that might have been the way he wielded the comb.

Stiles drew the comb down the back of the girl’s hair, expertly splitting it down the middle. “Here we go.”

For having such large hands, Stiles’s fingers were nimble. He created three segments and continually pulling them taut, he wove them in and out and around. He worked slowly but continuously until a pretty braid was the result. Holding his hand out he said, “Fastener.”

“Fastener,” Katherine responded, slapping it into his outstretched hand.

They both sounded so serious and Derek could only think how the word ‘fastener’ could’ve been substituted by ‘scalpel.’

Shifting toward the other side, Stiles duplicated his efforts. A short while later he requested the other fastener and tied off the other braid. 

Reaching into the sparkly bag, Stiles withdrew a mirror. “Here, let me know how I did.”

Katherine squealed and Derek wanted to slap his hands over his ears. Stiles cringed back. Katherine blinked at her reflection.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Satisfactory?”

“Amazing,” she sighed out. Turning, she threw her arms around Stiles’s neck, squeezing hard. “You’re amazing.”

The other man bore her attention with good grace. “You might not want to mention that to your dad. He’s not a great fan of mine.”

Katherine disentangled her arms from around Stiles’s neck. “I don’t care. He can’t even do a plain braid.”

“Hey, Katherine. Do me a favor and if someone asks to interview you, say these words: ‘Alright Mr. DeMille. I’m ready for my close up’.” Stiles could barely keep a straight face.

The little girl didn’t call Stiles out on using her correct name. She’d probably been in on the game from the get-go.

Derek tried to look scandalized at Stiles’s request but he was as amused as Stiles. Katherine had a good sixty or seventy years to perfect her impersonation of Norma Desmond from _Sunset Boulevard._

The girl faithfully repeated the words back and then looked at Stiles. “My daddy’s not going to like that, is he?”

Stiles laughed as he rose to his feet. “Not even a bit.”

Katherine smiled up at Stiles. He extended his hands, she grabbed on to them and he tugged her to her feet.

The sound of approaching vehicles caught everyone’s attention and they stood to the side as another CDFW SUV pulled in followed by a black Cadillac Escalade and finally a news van. 

A good looking guy with spiked light brown hair and bright blue eyes that resembled Katherine’s ran past them and scooped the little girl up, hugging her tightly.

“Baby, are you okay?” Katherine’s father asked. 

“Of course, Daddy,” she replied, smiling happily.

“Katherine, I asked you not to wander off. What happened?” the man with the high cheekbones prodded.

The little girl rolled her eyes. “I was playing with Barron and Prince. Those stupid boys left me but Stiles and Derek found me.” 

The man nodded and then carried Katherine over to where Stiles and Derek were standing, waiting for Chris Argent who was still in the CDFW vehicle. 

“I’m Katherine’s father, Jackson Whittemore,” he shifted Katherine onto his left side and held his hand out to shake Derek’s hand. “Thank you for finding her.”

Derek was always embarrassed with this part of his job. “We were just doing our job,” he murmured.

Mr. Whittemore turned his attention to Stiles. “I guess I should thank you, too, Stilinski.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the man. “Don’t strain yourself there, Jackson.”

Katherine piped up. “Daddy, you be nice to Stiles. He braided my hair. It’s a Reverse French Braid! His friend Lydia sent a comb and elastics with him so he could do this for me. Don’t I look pretty?”

Katherine’s father practically snarled at Stiles before turning his attention to the blond girl in his arms. “You look amazing, Baby.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Whittemore. We’re with KROK, Channel 12. Could we please interview you and your daughter?” a buxom blond asked as she approached with a cameraman, recorder perched on his shoulder.

Jackson Whittemore cleared his throat. “I suppose that would be okay.”

Chris Argent approached the two game wardens, distracting Derek from the family reunion going on in front of him.

“Good work, gentleman,” the captain said as he slapped a hand on the shoulder of each man and squeezed. “What happened out there?”

Before either Derek of Stiles could reply, they heard Katherine’s high voice, clear as a bell, say, “Alright Mr. DeMille. I’m ready for my close up.”

“Stilinski, I’m going to kill you!” the irate father yelled.

Derek bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Chris coughed into sleeve, losing the fight against laughter but trying to cover it up.

Stiles didn’t even pretend not to be amused. He guffawed so hard, he was bent over at his middle. Tears were leaking from his eyes.

“Come on you two, I’ll give you a ride back into town. You can tell me all about your daring rescue during the drive,” Chris announced, shepherding them to his SUV.

As Derek threw his equipment into the back of the vehicle, he realized he’d learned a lot about Stiles Stilinski.

The guy was courageous, knowledgeable and a good game warden. He’d also lived up to Cora’s billing, displaying an amazing amount of patience and humor. Derek had certainly never considered hair braiding as a possible skillset in his job but it had certainly calmed the young lady down. 

Stiles’s sense of humor was irreverent but Derek couldn’t fault the guy. Jackson Whittemore had acted like an ass, not wanting to acknowledge what Stiles had done for his daughter. Derek would never have the guts to do what Stiles had done but he had an appreciation for it.

Allison had been right…partnering up with Stiles would never be dull.

-0-

They were making their way toward Beacon Hills when Chris slowed down, pulling the SUV to the side of the road. Stiles was in the backseat and peered through middle. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a car pulled to the side of the road. I want to make sure no one needs our help,” Chris answered.

The three men sat there for a minute until Stiles looked first at Derek and then Chris. “Oh, when you said ‘we’ you meant the royal ‘we’.”

Chris’s bright blue eyes twinkled as he struggled to keep a straight face. “That would be correct.”

Stiles turned his warm, brown eyes on Derek. “Since you’re not moving, I take it you’re waiting for me?”

Derek didn’t even try to keep the smile off of his face. “I’m tired from carrying Katherine.”

“Tired, my ass. She weighed maybe 25 pounds at the most,” Stiles grumbled as he opened the back door and slid out. “I see someone in the front seat. You want to call in the plates for me or are you too tired?”

Smiling happily, Derek answered, “It’s the least I could do.”

“Damn right it is,” Stiles fired back but he was smiling. He closed the door and then made his approach.

Derek swiveled the control panel toward his seat and typed in the license plate. Seconds later he received an alert attached to the license plate: There was a welfare check request on Carl Perkins, the owner of the car.

Chris looked at the screen. “That’s not good.”

Both men had their doors open when they heard Stiles announce in a clear, authoritative voice, “Drop the gun and put your hands up.”

There was an explosion of noise—further instructions delivered by Stiles countered by frightened squawks from the driver of the car—and it was punctuated by the loud discharge of a gun.

Derek’s breath caught in his chest. Even though his feet were moving and he was drawing his gun, he continued to struggle for air. He dropped to a knee behind his open door and sensed Chris doing the same.

Stiles hit the ground but rolled toward the back of the silver Chevy Impala. He might’ve been hit but at least he was still conscious and moving under his own steam.

Breathing resumed although his heart galloped at a fast clip, the adrenaline pushing through his system. This was a fight-or-flight situation and Derek would definitely fight for Stiles.

His partner pushed himself up although he continued to slouch, hidden behind the left rear tire. Stiles gestured to both Chris and Derek that he was fine although Derek wouldn’t believe it until he could examine the younger man himself.

Chris engaged the radio, calling for backup. Derek heard the phrases ‘unlawful discharge of a firearm’ and ‘officer down’ but his attention was solely focused on Stiles.

The man in the car was pleading through his open window, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot.”

His partner took a moment to calm himself before his voice boomed out, “Sir, let’s try this again. I want you to throw your gun out of the car.”

The gun clattered to the pavement.

“Stick your head and arms out of the window,” Stiles instructed next.

The man complied.

Stiles cautiously approached, bent over, and retrieved the discarded gun.

Chris stayed back at a slight distance, gun still drawn, as Derek flew to Stiles’s side, holstering his own gun. Without preamble he yanked the man out of the car window and put him straight on the ground, his knee wedged between the man’s shoulder blades, keeping him down. In a matter of moments the man was cuffed and searched.

Derek rolled the man over and helped him sit up.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone else,” the man, Derek presumed him to be Carl Perkins, sobbed.

“Sir, try to calm down. Help is on the way,” Stiles replied calmly but he didn’t approach any closer. 

Derek took a moment to assure himself Stiles was uninjured. There was no blood on his khaki uniform. A scrape marred his sharp cheekbone but it wasn’t even as severe looking as the ones Angus the Pit Bull had displayed after tussling with the Guinea Hen.

Stiles’s skin was extremely pale and the pretty bourbon color of his eyes were almost obliterated by his pupils…his partner was most likely suffering from shock.

Hell, Derek was pretty sure he was suffering from shock as well.

The distant sound of sirens wailing approached, gaining in volume.

The Beacon County Sheriff’s Department accompanied the ambulance. A youngish, good-looking man climbed out of the SUV and Stiles heaved out a sigh. “Thank God it’s not my dad.”

Derek had heard numerous stories from Stiles about his father, Sheriff Stilinski, and he understood Stiles’s comment. He knew his partner loved his dad fiercely but he also knew the older man’s temper would not serve them well. Not that the sheriff was known for his temper, he just didn’t tolerate anyone messing with his son’s well being. 

The uniformed man’s long legs carried him closer and Derek recognized him. The man went straight to his partner. “Stiles, everything okay?”

“Hey, Jordan. I think Mr. Perkins isn’t having such a great day. Maybe you could have the Crisis Unit meet him at the hospital,” Stiles suggested. He sounded cool, calm and collected but perspiration was collecting along his hairline and his pallor was worrying.

“Sure thing. Hey Derek, do you want me to take custody of Mr. Perkins for you?” Jordan asked quietly. Derek realized he still had his hand wrapped tightly around the man’s upper arm as if he thought the sobbing man was going to make a break for it.

Derek transferred custody by rote and he vaguely remembered giving his statement with a promise to file the paper work the next day.

By the time Derek was free of his immediate duties he found Stiles sitting in the backseat of the SUV, door wide open, forearms on his thighs, heat bent. Chris was standing next to him, patting him on the shoulder.

“I need to have a word with Parrish. Do you mind staying here for a moment and then we can get on the road?” His supervisor couched his words as a question but it was more like a directive and Derek hadn’t even needed the orders…he was going to plant himself next to Stiles until someone visibly moved them apart.

Nodding his agreement, Derek shooed Chris away before he stood next to Stiles. “Hey.”

Stiles picked his head up, eyes a bit glassy, but he nodded and returned, “Hey,” in a soft, hoarse voice. 

Derek noticed a shiver ripple down Stiles’s frame. It could’ve been from his high emotions or it could be from the cooling air hitting his sweat-dampened body. “It’s cooling off out here. Mind sliding in?” Derek asked.

His partner didn’t question Derek’s motive, didn’t suggest he just get in the front passenger seat, instead he quietly folded his legs in, and slid across the upholstered bench seat, facing forward again.

Taking advantage of the opportunity before Stiles could change his mind or question his actions, Derek quickly climbed into the vehicle and closed the door. “As if we hadn’t already had enough excitement with finding Katherine, we had to encounter some doofus with a gun. Am I right?” Derek asked in a lightly teasing voice.

Stiles snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, you got that right.” The shakiness was still present but at least the snort was pure Stiles.

“You were amazing with the way you handled Mr. Perkins,” Derek said, reaching out and squeezing Stiles’s right hand that lay limply on his thigh. He wasn’t trying to push himself on to his partner, he was trying to be respectful of his boundaries, and so he withdrew his hand.

The other man quickly snatched it back, squeezing it tightly but not painfully. “You and I both know our jobs can be dangerous. And it’s not like I didn’t follow protocol when I approached the car. I just…and he…and all’s I could think was that I never got a chance to tell you,” Stiles blurted out in a herky-jerky fashion but never finished his thought.

“Tell me what?” Derek probed softly, staring hard at the pale profile before him.

Stiles turned toward him, eyes blazing with some strong emotion. “That I want…” he began but his thought trailed off.

The light bulb went off in a sudden epiphany. _Stiles was interested in Derek just as much as Derek was interested._

Finally.

“Me, too,” Derek blurted out.

Stiles startled back but then a crooked smile graced his face, color slowly seeping into his cheeks. “Okay, then.”

“Will you go out with me? I want to do this right,” Derek asked, tentatively.

Stiles always had something to say and his uncharacteristic quiet was making Derek question whether they were on the same page or not.

“Yes. Please. I want that, too,” Stiles replied and Derek’s doubts began to melt away.

The driver side door opened and Chris climbed in, attention moving between Derek, Stiles, and their still clasped hands. To his credit their supervisor just nodded before turning forward and starting up the SUV. “It’s been a long day. Let’s head home.”

After buckling their seatbelts, the two men went back to clutching onto one another. Chris cleared his throat. “So after an incident like that, I like to bring in someone to talk to the game wardens involved.”

Stiles looked at Derek, his head cocking to the side thoughtfully before he faced forward again. “Okay,” he said softly.

Chris continued on, either not hearing Stiles’s response or maybe it hadn’t sunk in that Stiles wasn’t going to argue against it. “Something tells me you two would prefer we skip that protocol but I think it’s really in your best interest to talk to a professional.”

Derek’s eyes met Stiles’s again he shrugged. “Yes.” He knew he’d been shaken to his core.

“I mean, Jesus, I wasn’t expecting that outcome at all and you both behaved professionally, I couldn’t be more proud of the both of you. But then with the gun discharging, and a suicidal man, yeah, I might’ve added a few gray hairs in that moment,” Chris concluded. 

Their supervisor seemed just as rattled as they were over the incident. He also wasn’t listening to them.

Stiles reached out with his left hand and gently clasped it on Chris’s right shoulder, squeezing. “We both agree with you, Chris. Now home, James,” he jested.

-0-

For once Derek felt excitement coil in his stomach at the prospect of meeting his sisters for dinner. He was always happy to see his sisters but their nagging could sometimes be a lot to take and they were prone to ganging up on him.

Derek squeezed Stiles’s hand as he led him into the restaurant. This time he was bringing reinforcements.

This was the big night. He was officially introducing Stiles to Laura and Cora as his boyfriend.

Both women stood up as they approached. Cora practically jumped into Stiles’s arms and squeezed him tightly, thumping him on the back. Stiles, accustomed to Cora’s lack of social graces, returned the hug enthusiastically. “It’s about time, you jerk.”

Stiles threw back his head and gave a whoop of laughter. “Takes one to know one.”

Apparently Stiles and Cora already had a sibling-like relationship.

Laura was gentler in her approach. She drew Stiles close, examining his face intently, before her own broke into a wide grin. “Welcome to the family. We’re small in number but mighty.” She also gave him a tight hug.

Stiles returned her hug but it was more tentative than the one he’d given Cora. “Thank you,” he responded. He seemed almost shy with his older sister but Derek was pretty sure that would fade over time. Laura was sarcastic in her own right and Derek predicted the two would become thick as thieves in the near future.

Derek might even have to watch his back if the three people he cared about most in the world banded together to nag and tease him.

The foursome finally seated themselves before the weekly exchange of updates started.

He tried to listen attentively as Laura talked about a co-worker who was a pain in the ass and then Cora talked about maybe liking this guy, Isaac, that Stiles also knew.

Derek sat back and enjoyed the interplay. Family, even when they were a pain in his ass, was everything to him. Stiles clicked with all three of them, like a puzzle piece that had been missing.

Stiles went next, telling Laura and Cora about their adventures in finding Katherine Whittemore. Laura knew the Whittemores through her work at the law firm and considered Jackson to be a conceited asshole although not completely a bad guy. Stiles concurred. Cora knew Jackson from school and cackled raucously when Stiles told them about teaching ladylike Katherine the Cecil B. DeMille line and how the little girl had executed it flawlessly in front of her father, leaving their former schoolmate apoplectic.

When Derek’s turn came, he took a deep breath. “I met someone, at work of all places. He’s kind to small animals, good with children and patient with the elderly and he has a great sense of humor. I think he’s beautiful, both inside and out.”

Laura and Cora cooed, making comments about them being an adorable couple while Stiles leaned over, face a bright pink, and brushed a chaste kiss over Derek’s lips.

“I couldn’t agree more, partner,” Stiles whispered. “You’re all that and more.”

Now they were the mushy couple prone to public displays of affection.

Derek could live with that. All’s it took was someone threatening Stiles’s life to make him come to that realization. The counselor Chris had brought in to talk with them had been helpful, some of his fears about dating a co-worker in a high risk occupation dissipating from the two sessions.

For once Derek vowed not to overthink things. He was happy. Content both professionally and personally.

He looked forward to sharing many more meals with these three people.

His family.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot tell you how much fun it was to write the scene with Stiles and Jackson's daughter. For that reason alone, this fic will always hold a special place in my heart.
> 
> This fills the prompt for Job Related Trauma on my Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card. It might be a little light on the trauma but the events with the suicidal man succeeded in getting the relationship rolling.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
